Chapter Text
“I swear to god, if you ram me one more fucking time, I’ll mutilate your dog.”
Typical Rick. Always one with the casual death threat. I mean, it’s not my fault! Who leaves a medium tank out in the open with no support and expects it to live? And if it just so happens so I can ram my t-34-76 into it, well la dee-fucking-da! The crippled M4A2 Sherman’s engine deck burst into a shower of flames, followed by the turret erupting like Mount Krakatoa. It flew into the air before slamming into the muddy ground next to it.
“Stay mad.” I cheekily respond, queuing up two more medium tanks of my own thanks to my fuel conservation. “Yeah, well at least I’m not a closeted Furry.”
This motherfucker. I grimace as I press tab and look at the only two names in the lobby. My gamertag, Fl0rid4_Fuckb01, sits nestled on the left, my pfp a beautifully cropped picture of an alligator smoking an absolutely MASSIVE stogie. Then there’s my friend’s tag. CervezazevreC, A pretty normal name for a guy whose parents are from Argentina, but then we get to his profile picture. At my best guess, it’s an anthropomorphic moth femboy. I tried asking him about it once, but he said it was an ‘Album cover’ for some kinda EDM shit.
The closeted furry insult really doesn’t hit that hard, but it’s still personal. For a while, all my online friends were ‘normal’. They were my irl friends, guys I met when I was playing Xbox in high school, some rando’s from Discord servers, the works. But then, when I was about 17, one of them just…became a furry. It was slow, but noticeable. Thankfully, he never became a fursuiter, or bothered me with that crap and I respected him for it. It was thanks to that friend I met my best friend, Rick, or Cerveza as I call him online. I even have him on snapchat.
He’s honestly my best friend. The kinda guy I would want to be the unc of my kids. Me and him are the same age, same interests, and we both own old Soviet shit. Match made in heaven…
But, because of my close proximity to so many furries, he and a few others have begun to think that I too, am a furry, just in the closet.
Is it true? Fuck no.
…
But some of these guys are fucking talented, lemme tell you. I’ve seen some art that would blow the feathers out of a renaissance artist’s cap. And the writing? God damn, these guys are regular Edgar Allen Poes! The only difference being that these fellas like to make their characters animal like, which is fine. And the…’other’, sites are…exotic? I may have visited a certain few of them to view some dubious work, but that doesn’t make me one of them! I simply enjoy their work because they do it so damn well!
I enjoy normal porn, art, fiction, and ASMR just as much as the next guy!
“Laugh it up, at least I didn’t lose a medium tank to a ramming maneuver.” I shoot back. Me and Rick have been playing for two hours now, this being our second match. He won the last on playing as USSR with me as US, so we swapped this time around. Lemme tell ya, armor rushing is like straight dopamine. I move around a few squads and send some engineers to repair my damaged t-34 while I check my clock. 11:18. Shit, I have a lecture tomorrow at 9:00 am, I need to wrap this up.
“Hey, Cerv’ I gotta thing tomorrow and it’s gettin late, do you mind if we wrap this up?”
“Yeah, no problem.” He responds. “See ya.” And just like that, he leaves the call, the match ending soon after due to an Alt-F4. It’s always nice to have that one friend that’ll end any match right away if you want. Some call it rude, I call it efficient.
I start backing out of multiplayer, then to the main menu. A few news bulletins talk about upcoming tournaments and updates, nothing new really. Wait…the fuck?
A small yellow new flashes right above the campaign button. Since when did they add something new to the campaign? Did they do a background update, change a few values maybe? It could be new content, like another DLC. I should really go to bed, but how can I pass up such a juicy chance? I already beat the Soviet and Ardennes campaigns, maybe they added a British or German one?
I can at least look at it, right?
I click on the flashing button and load into the campaign screen. The normal selection presents itself, Continue, New Game, Load Save. Maybe New Game? I click on it and another screen appears. ‘Soviet Campaign+ has been made available for play, would you like to launch?’
Soviet Campaign plus? What the hell is that? I’ve never heard of CoH2 having a new game plus feature, that would ruin the missions. Maybe it’s like a different skin or storyline. I now they introduced a few new mechanics in CoH3, they probably
imported some into this one. A few ideas rush the my brain: ‘The invasion of Poland’? ‘Invasion of Manchuria’? Maybe even an alternate history scenario where the USSR invaded west Germany and fights the Americans?
Fuck it, we’re ball.
I throw my future into the wind as I click the enticing button. The screen goes black for a moment, a spinning bullet in the bottom right indicating a loading process. The dim glow of my screen is barely enough to illuminate my face in the darkness of the display, but it doesn’t take a mirror to know I’m tired as shit. I lean back in my chair and shift my body around so I can lay it toward the side. I guess I can just…dick around while I wait.
…
…
Man…this is boring as fuck.
I yawn, watching the spinning cartridge at the corner of the screen continue its mesmerizing dance. Shit, maybe…yeah, I’ll just close my eyes, get a bit of energy back so I can enjoy this new addition to the story…
Fuck…just for a minute…
My heavy lids clamp down on my eyes, and a deep embrace pulls me into sleep.
-/-/-/-/-
Awwww…shit.
My conscious rouses me with an all too familiar sensation: A mouth dryer than hardtack and an aching back. Unfortunately, the other part of my mind still doesn’t want to move. Do I get up and alleviate my suffering? Or do I squeeze out a few more precious moments of quasi-sleep?
I swallow and almost immediately choose the former. I sit up and start wiping my the sleep out of my eyes. My hand leaves a cold, wet surface and meets my eyelids. My sleeve rubs across and I wince. Motherfucker, why is my sleeve so rough? It feels like a damn burlap sack full of sandpaper. And why is the back of my hand wet, did my water bottle spill-
OH SHIT!
My eyes shoot open and I grit my teeth. But, instead of my desk and gaming PC, I’m met with an open field full of green grass.
…
What in the actual fuck?
I look down and see A: I am not in my chair, but sitting in the middle of the grass, and B: I’m not wearing my clothes. I was wearing my sleeping shorts and a t-shirt, but now a blue pair of trousers, leather belt, and some kind of brown collared coat cover my body. The cuffs of my sleeves are adorned with a sort of dark blue and deep red. When I turn my head, something starts to slip from the top of it. I reach up and pull a cap off my head, the same dark blue as my cuffs with a dark leather rim. I turn it around and come face to face with small metal pin in the center of its band. A red star with a hammer and sickle crossed in its center.
Wow…this is one odd dream. Cause what else could it be? I remember getting off of a call with Rick, booting up the campaign, staring at a black loading screen…Shit, I must’ve gotten so bored that I fell asleep in my chair. But for a dream, this one is oddly clear and long. Most dreams that I end up remembering are less than a few seconds long, and also, if I’m experiencing this dream, then does that mean I’ll remember it when I wake up? Hmm, dream science.
Right, well, if I’m having a lucid dream, I may as well make the most of it. I get up to my feet and dust the dew off my ass, but my hand bumps into something in the process. I fondle my rear to find it again, grabbing ahold of it and moving it around. It’s a large leather journal…map…notepad thingy. One of those map holders that officers use I think. Speaking of officers, why would I dream of myself in a NKVD uniform? The campaign?
I stretch my arms out and wince. God damn, this shit is rougher than hell! Where the hell is my undershirt? I know for a fact these cock suckers had something under their grit 250 uniforms. I peel my collar to the side and see my pasty white chest under it. Seriously, I couldn’t dream up a fucking dress shirt or something? God…
Anyways, what’s with this map doohickey? I bring it to my face and open it. Inside is a few pieces of paper, some pencils, a compass, and a booklet. The little booklet seems like a good pace to start. I pull it out and let the leather packet hand from my neck. The booklet is about as tall as a phone and about the same width as it is tall. Basically a perfect square. The cover of the book is a maroon red, with golden letters engraved on the material:
‘БУКВАРЬ КОМИСАРА ПО ВЫЖИВАНИЮ И БИТВЕ’
Great, Russian, in my American dream. I thumb through the pages of the book and find the same shit, Russian. Hell, half the pages are blacked out or blurred! Wunderbar.
I knew I should have learned Russian instead of German on Duolingo! Now my status is fu-
The space in front of me flickers. Like, static TV flickers. A small thin line appears before me and stretches before it expands like a chrome window. The edge of the window is covered in barbed wire while the center of it is layered by old wooden planks. A piece of paper appears from the left side and slides across, stopping in the dead center. It has bold writing in English;
‘STATUS:
Level 0.
Xp: 0.
Chosen Class: NKVD Commissar.’
Ok, we’ve just gone from ‘pretty cool lucid dream’ to ‘fever dream’. I must’ve been fucking zonked if this is the shit my mind is coming up with. But alright, I’ll bite, it’s not like this dream can get any weirder. I reach out and tap the Xp indicator. A smaller window pops up next to my hand.
Current Xp amount: 0. To gain Xp, User must gain 1 level. To gain 1 level and start the campaign, follow the objective marker on your map.
Objective marker? Shit, my brain was really in full gaming mode before I fell asleep. I look away from the window and grab my map holder. Thankfully, it has a map.
With nothing on it?
There’s a map key and compass rose on it, in Russian of course, but the entire map is blank. The only thing on the paper apart from the key is a small red dot in the dead center and a larger green circle around it. Alright, if my mind made this with video game logic in mind, then that dot must be me, and the surrounding green the field I’m in. However, a small orange blip to the right of the dot flashes as if to gain my attention.
Right, well, at least I have a goal now.
I look up from the map and around myself. The area I’m in is quite literally a giant field of grass. There’s a few dips and rises, but nothing notable. I suppose walking westward is my only choice. I slide the map
back into it’s holder and retrieve the compass from inside. It takes me a second to orient myself, but soon enough I’m off to the ‘objective’.
For a lucid dream, it’s very linear. I mean, isn’t the point of a lucid dream to be in total control? I’ve never had one before, but still. Furthermore, when am I gonna wake up? Soon? Dreams can be instant, or they can last as long as a brain makes them. It’s all about perception of time, right? Time is super slow for little kids, but as people get older, time gets quicker. Does that mean my brain is making time slower? Wait, no, it’d be faster since time in my dream is moving quicker than time outside…
God damn it, why does shit have to be so complicated? At this point, I kinda wanna wake up and just be done with this dream. All this thinking has kind of ruined the novelty. Maybe the good old pinch method will do the job.
I bring my left hand up to my right, which still has the compass in its palm. I grab a piece of my skin between my thumb and pointer finger, giving it a quick and sharp squeeze. I close my eyes and wince, feeing my nails dig into my hand.
…
…
…
I open my eyes.
My fingers are still pinching the underside of my right hand, which is holding the compass, which is still guiding me across a giant plain.
…
I knew it. Come on, pinching yourself and waking up? It’s a dream, your brain can make you feel, hear, and see shit that isn’t happening, of course I can feel pain! Still, it’s a little worrying. This is a really fucking weird dream, even by lucid standards. Whatever, it’s fine, I’ll just do this objective and hopefully go from there.
-/-/-/-/-
I’ve never wanted to blow my brains out more than I do now.
I’ve been walking for at least 20 minutes straight, with no progress other than my feet being hurt by the leather boots that I arrived with. I’d kill for a car right now, even a Prius, Something to take the pain off of my poor dogs. I wonder if God or Allah, or whoever the hell is up above me can hear me?
My wondering is cut short by another thin line appearing in front of me. I stop walking and instantly a wave of relief washes over me. Thank fuck, my feet feel like total ass.
The line expands into the same window as before, another piece of paper sliding across display. It stops in the center again.
’Objective completed: Reach the marker.
'Level up!: Congratulations, you have leveled up. You may now begin completing more missions and gaining Xp.'
'New skill gained: Multilinguistic.'
Multilinguistic? As in, knowing multiple languages? Shit, that's pretty god damn useful. Maybe I can finally read that little booklet I've been lugging around for the past half hour.
'Please select an initial specialization for your campaign.'
The window shifts around, displaying a massive web tree. Each 'branch' is a small circle with a different emblem or symbol. Most of them are, surprise surprise, blurred out. The only ones legible are 4 large ones at the top of the web. From left to right, the orbs are marked with a trio of stars, a gear and wrench, a pair of crossed rifles, and then a shovel and pick. Whatever this is, it's not from Company of Heroes, they never had this kind of system.
Alright, well, based on my guess, each of these symbols must represent a division or type of unit. The rifles are obviously infantry, that's a no brainer. The shovel and pick must be support units, or maybe buildings. The gear and wrench have to be vehicles, which leaves the stars. The only thing I can think of for that would be special units or abilities. Elite squads, call in's, artillery strikes, bombing runs, the works.
Now, I suppose I should pick one of these to start with. But what? A vehicle would be great to get around and stop walking, but where would I get fuel for it? And I certainly can't fix it if it breaks, I've only ever helped my dad work on Chevys and Fords, I wouldn't know shit about a Soviet engine. The support could be nice, but I don't think I need the tools right now. Special? No, what am I gonna do with an artillery strike? Besides, I don't even have a radio with which to call in said strike. That leaves the infantry. I mean, what other choice do I reasonably have?
I move my hand towards the crossed rifles and click the emblem. A small window pops up above the emblem with small info text.
'INFANTRY FOCUS: Infantry are the backbone of any fighting force. Selecting this tree will enable the deployment of infantry squads and specialized equipment.'
'Starting Unit: Conscript Infantry Squad-Basic troops with little combat training or experience. The backbone and bulk of the Soviet Army. Often lost in large numbers, they can be truly effective with good support. Cost: 240 Manpower, 7 pop.'
Current resources:
Manpower:500
Munitions:100
Fuel:0
Wow, I'm pretty sure that snippet is the same one from the unit description, word for word. Also, when the hell did I get all of those 'resources'? Last time I checked, I wasn't hauling around a crate full of ammo. Bah, what am I thinking? This is a damn dream! A really long and unorthodox one, but meh. I might as well play along.
I tap the emblem again and watch as the symbol fills itself full of color, the rifles turning golden while the background of the button turns a deep red. Three smaller emblems light up below it, each of them with different symbols. Hey, that one looks like a pps-
"Reporting for duty Comrade Commissar!"
WHATTHEFUCK
My body whirls around, my heart switching from blood to pure adrenaline. In my craze, my left foot catches my right and I come crashing down into the wet grass below. My arms and hands flail around, trying to get myself upright to face whatever the hell just spoke. My hand manages to dig into the soft dirt and push me onto my back. Then, I see them.
The first thing my eyes see is a bunch of black boots. Moving them upwards, I make out a pair of powerful legs that go up until they meet at a wide waist. Then a gun barrel enters my view, a wooden stock underneath. I-Is that a...Mosin? My eyes dart across the length of the rifle until they see the two paws holding it.
Paws..?
My eyes instinctually skip the rest of the examination and go straight for the face of the person in front of me. The face was a picture perfect copy of a wolf, but unlike the pictures and taxidermy mounts I had seen up close, this one was alive and staring intently at me. The top of the wolf's forehead was slightly hidden by a garrison cap, a small metal star pinned on the front. Not giving myself time to process a damn thing, I make my eyes move down to avoid meeting the creature's gaze. Holy shit...that's a big che-wait, what the fuck? No! Don't focus on the breasts you fucktard, there's a goddamn werewolf in front of you with a GUN!
I back myself up using my hands and quickly jot my eyes around the rest of the group. All of them are fucking wolves. Some have different coats or patterns, but that doesn't really concern me right now; However, the fact that armed, bipedal, and sentient animals are all gazing at me, does.
"Wha...what...?" I muster.
The one closest to me, who also happens to look the tallest and biggest, shifts her rifle to one hand and holds a paw out towards me. "Apologies Comrade Commissar, I did not mean to frighten you." Holy fuck they can talk. That makes no sense, their mouths are snouts! Muzzles! They shouldn't be able to make the noises needed for words! None of this shit makes sense, even in a dream! Naw, fuck this, I need to wake up now.
I grab my left pinkie finger with my right hand and push it as far back as I can. The pain builds up quickly, my ligaments and joints crying out for relief. Come on, wake me up damn it! I keep going as far as I can without breaking my pinkie, but the wet grass under my ass is still there.
Maybe, if I bite really hard-
"Commissar!"
My head flicks back up and meets the gaze of the wolf once again. Her head is cocked slightly to the right, an ear limp against the side of her skull. She knelt down in front of me, her knee soaking itself in the dew. "What's wrong?"
No...no no nononononono...this isn't a dream. The tear of pain in my left eye is evidence of that, so is the world around me. Oh God, oh Jesus, fuck...
My large force grabs my left hand and closes around it. Slowly, the force pulls my hand up, followed by my arm and the rest of me. Without even a scrap of effort on my part, the werewolf had pulled me to my feet and held me up with just one of her paws. Her paw felt rough and coarse, like a piece of weathered leather. My hands felt clammy, like I had just spent an hour in the Danube during the winter.
"Comrade Commissar? What's wrong? Are you unwell?"
F-Fuck...Ok, ok. J-Just look at the damn wolf and converse you pussy. I willed my neck to turn my head towards the wolf's muzzle. I had to crane my neck up a little to view it, even though I'm 6'3 without shoes. She has to be 7 feet tall, minimum. "Y-Yeah, I'm ffff-fffine." Aaaand I can't even talk without stuttering, that's just peachy. The wolf's face showed a astonishing amount of emotion, her brows furrowing and eyes squinting. "Are you sure Comrade? Your skin is cold and your hand is shaking."
I nod quickly. "Yes, I'm fine." I pull my hand away from her paw, a bit too quickly than I would've liked. She backs away with the same paw raised defensively. "So...who are you?" I ask.
As if a button was pressed inside of her, she initiates a salute. She drops the butt of her rifle into the ground, her paw holding onto the barrel while the other comes up to form a typical salute. "Serzhant Anastasia Gorsky, 1045th Rifle Regiment, 284th Rifle Division." The rest of her squad behind her repeated the salute, albeit slower and less enthusiastically. Ok, she's a Sergeant in the Soviet army, duh, but that division sounds familiar.
"Ok, where did you come from?" Maybe she actually has some answers. She blinks, silent for a moment. "Are you asking about my home or about my unit?" Home? Why the fuck would I give a damn about your fucking home?! I'm stuck in this godforsaken field, with these fucking taint licker dogs, with no way to wake up, IF I'm even dreaming! "I mean, where were you just before now?" I ask, trying to conceal my anger with grit teeth. She makes a small 'o' with her mouth (Which shouldn't even be possible). "Well, we came from the rear, sir."
"The rear?" I feel like I've been smacked. "What do you mean 'the rear'?" She flicks her head backwards towards the horizon. "The rear. The area behind the frontline where all of us were staying. We received orders from our commander to find a Commissar and transfer to his command." She stated as if she was explaining that air was breathable. "Ok, the rear, where is the rear?" I'm barely keeping my voice down. She relaxes from her salute and turns to allow me to see past her. She then points back the way I came. "That way Comrade Commissar, about 50 kilometers."
...50 kilometers.
No, no, you know what? I'm done. I'm actually fucking done with this shit.
I turn around and start walking the direction opposite of the squad of furries. I make it about ten steps before I hear the sound of boots behind me. I turn and see the group of wolves marching in a single file line behind me, the Sergeant being the head of the 'pack'. "What the hell are you doing?" I ask. She lifts an eyebrow. "Following you?" Holy hell, can she be just a bit more informative? "I mean, why, are you following me?"
"Because our orders were to fall under your command Comrade Commissar. We marched out of the rear to find you at the front, and here you are." She answered.
"So, you mean to tell me, that you and all your fellow wolves were ordered to find me specifically, and to follow my orders as your new commander?" She nodded confidently. "Exactly Comrade Commissar." I've never had to ball my fist up to the point that I pierced skin with my nails, but today seems special. I turn around and look into the horizon opposite of the rear. I think I see something, but hell, nothing's real right now, is it? Maybe I had a stroke in my chair and now I'm in some kind of hell because I spent a little too much time on r34.
"Command also said you had a book that had all your orders for us." She added on.
Book?
My hands shoot down to my map packet and yank the small booklet out of it. I spin it around in my hands before finally finding the cover.
'THE COMMISSAR'S PRIMER FOR SURVIVAL AND BATTLE'
Oh.
It's now in English. Great. I guess that 'skill' or whatever I unlocked gave me the ability to just understand other languages. Peachy.
I flick the cover open and skim across the first few pages. Mostly Politburo and Stalinism crap, talk about Cult of Personality. However, the next page contains a very interesting table of contents
-Introduction
-The Basics
Maintaining Morale
Commanding a Small Unit
Battlefield Awareness
Logistics and Management
Dealing with Internal Conflict
-Infantry
Squad Types
Infantry Equipment
Supporting Infantry
Upgrading Infantry
Positioning and cover
-Vehicles
Vehicle types
Logistical
Unarmored Combat Vehicles
Armored Cars
Light Armor
Medium Armor
Self Propelled Guns
Heavy Tanks
Artillery
Anti-Air
Anti-Tank Weapons
-Support
Support Units
Medical
Engineering
Combat Engineers
Snipers
-Special
Special Units
Strikes
Aerial Support
Elite Units
Spetznaz and NKVD Squads
-You
Your Role
Dealing with Unruly Soldiers
Dealing with Low Morale
-Extras
Man, this little thing is full of crap. Although, I'm willing to bet that a lot of it is taken right from CoH2.
"Jesus Christ..." I set the book back in my map packet and pinch the bridge of my nose. Ok, I need to calm down for a second and consider my options. Clearly, standing around isn't gonna change anything. I'm guessing this is like one of those shitty manhwa recapped videos or Isekai anime's. I gotta do something or kill someone in order to go home. Based on the pop up windows and sudden appearance of the wolves, this place probably follows some sort of vide game logic. With any luck, it'll be identical to Company of Heroes 2.
Level up, unlock more units and abilities, defeat something, get more levels, complete a 'campaign', then wake up in time for breakfast.
Yeah, piece of cake.